


The tip of your tongue, the top of your lungs

by Anaile20GH



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, a birthday gif for querida, and it's also may 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaile20GH/pseuds/Anaile20GH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He suspects that Pep said yes for the simple reason that he hadn’t had a proper goodbye, not before, especially from Liverpool</i>
</p>
<p>Before and after the charity match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The tip of your tongue, the top of your lungs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonlytree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonlytree/gifts).



> Feliz cumpleaños querida! I told you, your birthday last until the end of may, so here is my gift to you.  
> And it's may 25...happy ten anniversary Istanbul #wewonit5times
> 
> PS1: gracias [jazzy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/kaixo) for beta this for me. Agradecida con el tiempo que invertiste y tu infinita paciencia... <3
> 
> PS2: I wish I can write simple PWP...

_I hope you can come…_

It's just a simple phrase that can be read through the phone while grazing its screen slightly with his thumb before typing his answer.

_I’ll be delighted; you know how much I miss it…_

He puts the phone in his pocket and focuses his attention again on Emma who is playing on the floor with her toys. It’s cold and rainy in Munich, the grey of the sky reminding him of home and Liverpool at once.

He feels the device buzzing annoyingly within his pants but it’s not until almost an hour later that he finally reads the last message.

_Anfield misses you, you better not let her down._

There’s a soft, playful smile on his lips and he quickly replies:

_I’ll not let you down…I promise. For old time’s sake I’ll be there._

His mind keeps wandering through the rest of the day. At night, when he’s on the bed listening his wife in her sleep, memories comes to him, images passing by full of red, great victories, songs and love.

He doesn’t get a proper rest and fails at training the next morning. Pep is looking at him furiously from the sidelines and he thinks that is better not even to try in that moment ask for permission to - _you see Pep there’s this match at Anfield in four weeks and they invited Pepe and me, you think…-_

He tries three days later when he caught Pep in the best of his moods after training and to be honest, he had not expected how easy went with his coach and the rest of the club. He suspects that Pep said yes for the simple reason that he hadn’t had a proper goodbye, not before, especially from Liverpool. Of course, there were conditions, but for him, playing in Anfield for five minutes with the rest of his former teammates, with Steven, would be enough for a while.

It would be enough to feel that he’s in home, would be enough to feel that loved again.

And he just can’t wait for it.

∼.∼

He feels his throat burn with the scotch.

He wants to get drunk, but he knows that Steven would kill him if he looks completely pissed on the field tomorrow.

The things aren’t going according to his plans, not exactly. If it were up to him, he wouldhave preferred to be in a pub in Liverpool trying not to get drunk with Jamie, Steven, Arbie and few of the lads, having a great time… for old time's sake.

But of course, it was too much to ask.

Well, he certainly didn’t ask to have a quarrel with his wife in the middle of the street, outside of a fancy club in London which at this point he finds it rather amusing as he burst into laughs in his very expensive drink. Especially when he still can hear her saying, _You’re just being weird ever since you’ve been here, what the hell is wrong with you?_

Alvaro sees him from their table and sighs as he stands up and walks to the bar. He’s still laughing but the looks on his eyes… Alvaro knows he feels miserable and he doesn’t want to understand why.

Which he actually does. But he chooses just to be part of the charade, it’s the smart thing to do, since he doesn’t want details. He doesn’t need it anyway. 

"It’ll be easier for both of you if you just try to have a good time”.

“She’s doing my head in, I just… I didn’t even want to come here in the first place”. 

“You know that’s not a newsflash for the rest of us, but really, being an asshole doesn’t make things easier and why did you come anyway?”

_Like I had a choice…_ he bitterly thinks. 

He sees Alvaro and there’s something in his eyes that makes him want to recoil to the darkest corner of the club and just hide there. It’s not the time and not the place to face some certainties that probably Alvaro is reaching to acknowledge at this point of the night and yes, he thinks, he must stop drinking because he thinks he’s losing his shit.

“Come on man, tomorrow is not far. And then, you’ll be in Munich and everything will fall into normal again”.

_Tomorrow_ he thinks,

_Tomorrow_

The couple of hours he gets to sleep, are beside his wife on the bed, back to back and without apologies between them.

 

∼.∼

 

The dressing room is a scrum. Everybody is taking pictures, with wide smiles on their faces, it’s loudly and there’s excitement and anticipation surrounding them and he’s taking everything and letting sink in him.

_I’m here…I’m back…_

“I almost thought you weren’t going to make it. I was considering to rent a damn helicopter to assure your ass here, you idiot”.

“I made a promise and here I am”.

“Yes, here you are”.

Steven is staring him with the same look he used to see him before every match back when he was a red. One look and he would translate into one pass, one play on the field, and before it, the raw trust he knows Steven would have in him every match they played together. He can feel the pressure again, of not let his captain down, let Anfield down. It was a good feeling back then and it’s still now, he has to be good enough to deserve Anfield’s love… and his captain’s love.

And he was more than good.

Steven hugs him hard and he can feel his smile on the skin of his neck. He hears him whisper something but the lads are being loud and Steven’s words got lost in the little space between his neck and Steven’s lips.

He thinks he knows what his captain has said when he can see his face.

And Steven’s smile as a way to answer his, he knows he would do whatever he can to see it again and again. 

 

∼.∼

There are no words for him to describe what he’s feeling right now.

It’s like he never left. The time has not passed, it’s 2007 and it’s his song, is Steven receiving his pass, is Jamie screaming his head off, the blood rushing madly through his veins, the promise of a victory everytime Steven would go near to the box.

It’s overwhelming. All of it.

The best 30 minutes he’s had in a long time over a football field.

He sees the Kop and wants to be there, he wants it all.

He never has been so grateful with Steven like he’s now.

And he’s more than in love with Liverpool, he always has known it.

∼.∼

The celebration is as entertaining as he expected it to be.

He has a laugh between John’s anecdotes and Dirk’s jokes.

He’s getting pissed quickly with Pepe’s encouragement while his eyes are following Steven going all over the place taking pictures and saluting every single person in the room. He sees Nagore sitting in their table with Carlota and other people laughing with them.

His eyes go back to where Steven was standing with a few of the lads but he’s not there anymore. He returns to listen Pepe’s and Alvaro’s ramblings, their stories when they were younger and reckless, memories of their early days in Liverpool. He honestly doesn’t remember much of those passages narrated in slight drunk mood, probably because he’s getting a little bit drunk to make an effort and try to remember any of it… or because he’s struck by the image of his wife walking to the bar and sitting beside Steven.

Oh…he found him.

And he’s seeing his wife while she’s talking… _amiably?_ to Steven. She looks gorgeous, in her high heels and beautiful, silky hair over her naked shoulders. There’s a slight feeling of guilt in him but only for seconds, his stubbornness reaches alarming levels sometimes and whatever stupid reason they had to hiss and piss off each other yesterday (he actually doesn’t want to go there again) it would be forgotten and they will be fine later, at home.

Or that’s what he hopes anyway. The deepest part of his brain knows that it’ll be not so easy for them to let it go…and mostly it’s because of him.

He slightly shakes his head and lays his eyes again on Nagore and Steven. He notes that Steven’s features change to something like to “caught by surprise” expression and that definitely got his attention. He sees her kissing his cheek and walking to their table while Steven takes in one go the rest of his drink. He puts the glass on the table and stares at it fixedly like trying to decipher to whatever just happened. Nagore, while moving in that elegant way of hers towards their table, gives him a look, a knowing one, filled with some kind of resignation.

He feels the hairs of the back his neck rise and the sourness of the scotch invading his taste. He takes a glass of water and decides to go to the bar against his better judgement and take the little chance he has to make Steven talk. 

His plans are ruined when Steven, finally decides to look at him at his third call and without hesitation he says… _don’t ask._

“Instead, sit and drink with me”.

Steven smiles at him and well, he just knows that he’ll not get his way if he insists.

“I’m glad you came, I really am”.

He smiles sincerely.

“Like if I wouldn’t accept it in the first place Stevie, to say no was never in my head”

“Well not you, Bayern have reasons to scupper it and that was my worry”.

“I think they let me because Pep likes you”.

“Sorry for him that I’m not available”.

“Too bad, I think we still got it”.

For the knowing look in Steven’s eyes, he knows they agree on that.

“I know you say don’t ask, but she said to you something”.

The smile is not there anymore, is just Steven serious, perhaps slightly uncomfortable. He takes a sip of his drink, set his stare on him.

“She says that it was very emotional and that she was grateful for it”.

“Liar…”

“I’m not lying, she really said that”.

“And…?”

“And there’s nothing else to say mate, just drop it”.

He sees his former captain sip his drink. He sighs defeatedly and feels exhausted all of sudden; it has been a long weekend. He feels drained.

Emotionally drained.   

“Ey, what time does your flight leave tomorrow?”

“At four I think”.

“Have a breakfast with me”. 

There’s a glint in Steven’s eyes that makes his heart skip a beat or two. He knows he should say no, for practical reasons, such as Nagore already planned a lunch with their friends near to their old apartment.

But it’s that glint, that smirks, that slight pleading he can’t ignore.

He knows to where that plead leads to. And he really must say no.

But they’re in Liverpool after all.

“Breakfast at 11:00 am?”

“Make it at 10”.

He chuckles, drinks half of his scotch and says while staring directly Steven’s eyes _all right_.

They said nothing more through the rest of the night.

 

∼.∼

“It’s Ane’s birthday, remember?”

He’s putting on a coat and then a beanie; he’s in a rush because it’s almost 10. Nagore is drinking coffee while reading the newspaper, not looking at him. She knows she’s going to eat alone now and that’s he’s not going to be available for lunch either.

The thought makes her smile, she probably should have known better. It’s not her place, not _their_ place. It never was.

After all those years and she refused to understand it. She thinks in Alex and how probably she accepted it, and she’s almost sure that was the reason she didn’t stay for the celebration after the match.

Maybe everything would be a lot easier between her and her husband if she reconciles with the idea of _there’s something you can’t reach because isn’t your place in his life._

And it’s not like she’s competing with _him,_ she knows this. But she’s greedy and well, if she has to be blamed for it so be it.

She listens him talking to their daughter. He’s singing happy birthday in euskera and she closes her eyes and breathes deeply. When he finishes the call she says to him that they must be at the airport by 14:00 and he only responds _I’ll be here at 13:30, don’t worry._

She hears the door of their room close. She stands up and walks to the window, the view of the docks from the hotel unfamiliar to her now, more like an intruder making them restless.  

_Oh Liverpool_ she thinks… _when he really will let you go?_

∼.∼

_Meet me at the coffee near to your flat._

He reads the message Steven sent him 20 minutes ago. It’s 10:05 when he gets there, he practically had to run to be on time. He enters the place and walks to where Steven is sitting, cup in hand and everything. The place is small but warm and the familiarity of the situation, Steven there waiting for him, there’s a pang of nostalgia overtaking him and probably it’s too much.

If there’s something that Steven knows how to do so well is to take him back to the _now and here_. It takes one phrase, one slight touch and it’s enough to make him ignore whatever reasons he has to be a reasonable grown man and just fall into their own way of being.

In this case, it’s the realization of Steven that he’s there and how the man smiles at it, one last sip of whatever he was drinking, a few notes on the table, Steven grabbing the bag _he even asked the food to go…how considerate,_ and of course…

“You’re late.

“For five minutes Stevie, we’re not at training for fuck sakes”.

“Precious time that counts, you know”.

He follows Steven to the exit, follows him to the car. They drive for fifteen minutes, they only share a few words, mostly regarding to Jamie at the match yesterday and they burst into laughs with the highlights of Captain Carragher. 

They stop at a building.

Steven leads him to an apartment, opens the door and lets him enter first.

The door is closed.

∼.∼

The buttons of his coat are being pulled roughly, his mouth is being kissed hard and he’s listening his song chanted by forty five thousand of souls.

He feels Steven fingers getting under his shirt, grazing his belly and not stopping his desperate kisses, his bites on his neck, his hand over his growing.

He still can hear Anfield singing his song _… A-L-O-N-S-O It's Alonso, Xabi Xabi Alonso._

“Xabi?”

He hears Steven whisper breathless his name. He feels his hand on his cheek, sees the blue of his eyes brighter than ever, his skin flushed with emotion. 

“Be with me, will you?” 

He’s breathing hard, mouth open and his heart is practically galloping. He nods, twice, and starts to undress Steven while kissing him in the same way. He touches almost haltingly every inch of his skin until Steven grabs his dick and he can’t avoid scratch his back with his nails. Steven hisses and bites his lower lip, pulls him and they fumble to the bed, clothes scattered on the floor and he splayed across the mattress. He sees the wrinkles on Steven’s forehead, how the years are passing and drawing its marks on them. Steven’s face disappears from his sight, his eyes now fixed on the roof, the noise of Anfield still in his ears. When he feels Steven biting his inner thigh and his mouth so close, he almost pleads him to take him with his mouth and do everything. He doesn’t need to do it anyway, he only arches his back when Steven tastes and takes him, grabs his sandy hair and buries his dick deep in Steven’s throat, almost choking him. He knows when Steven needs to catch his breath, he lets him take air and then again hits the back of his throat over and over until he can feel his balls go tight and the need to come so badly.

Steven realises that he’s close, because he stops, smirks at him, kiss his belly and goes up to kiss his mouth only to be rewarded by a grunt and a hard bite to his tongue. He can taste a little of Steven’s blood in his mouth and here he knows, Steven will take what he wants in the manner he thinks he deserves for what he just did.

He takes one moment, just one moment to look up at him, and Steven is staring at him too in a way that leads him to understand that the only thing he needs right there is him. Everything else doesn’t matter.  

Steven fucks him hard, trying to slow it down at moments. He knows Steven wants this last as much as he can make it last. He tries hard to not to come yet, only when Steven is getting erratic with his movements, when the spot deep inside in him is rubbed in insistent way he can’t hold it anymore. He shouts, feels a sticky warmness over his belly and following him, Steven breathing hard and moaning in his neck.

He starts to sing his song in his mind again… _A-L-O-N-S-O It's Alonso, Xabi Xabi Alonso._

He smiles while he can feel Steven’s breathing going slow. He hugs him and starts to kiss his neck, until Steven stops him, kissing him back.

 

∼.∼

“Xabi, what are you thinking?”

They’re laying on their sides, facing to each other. And yes, there’s something that is whirling in his mind since the minute they got to this place.

He hopes Steven can say aloud what it's about without him explaining it much, mostly because he doesn’t want to.

“Aren’t you going to tell me then?”

He looks away, clears his throat, sighs and looks at him again.

“You’re going far, you know that right?”

It’s Steven's turn to looks anywhere but his face. He puts a hand over Steven’s chest, right where his heart is.

“You’re really closing it, everything”. 

“Xabi…just don’t”.

“You can’t leave”.

“You did it”.

“But you’re not like me. You know it right?”

“I know”.

“If you leave, it means that it’s really the end, the end of what” -

He’s interrupted by Steven covering him with his body, taking his face between his hands.

“Let me do this, just this once. I want to let it go, just one moment, will you understand me? I want to be me doing it”.

And he understands, he really does.

It hurts, but it’s all right. Steven deserves this.

“Can I go? Once you’re there, can I go to see you play?”

Steven smiles at him; it’s sweet, lovely, devastating.

He doesn’t get an answer; he just receives a breathtaking kiss.

“You will Xabi, you will”.

_Because I’m your Liverpool._

**Author's Note:**

> It turns out that I can't write PWP...
> 
> the title of the fic is from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aLsgzOkJ10)
> 
> Thanks for your time! <3


End file.
